Friday, March 15, 2024

This is Us

 


Amy and I watched the first episode of "This is Us" several years ago, when we were in the midst of our own adoption-induced emotional roller coaster. We remember really liking the show, but feeling we weren't ready to dive further in, given how raw our own feelings were at the time. So we ceased watching and let things be.

Fast forward to the present, and we have been catching up on and enjoying all the episodes. If you're not familiar, the show takes place across two points in time, during the childhood and then adulthood of three siblings and their parents, the three siblings including the surviving two of triplets (the third didn't make it at birth) and a Black boy who was abandoned at birth and brought to the hospital on the same day. 

I knew the show would pull at my heartstrings, but I don't think I was adequately prepared for all of the ways the drama in the show would open up for me new aspects of the joys and sorrows of adoption, race, marriage, and parenthood. Life is full of these ups and downs, artfully captured in this lovely show and mirrored in the tumult of our own lives. Thankful for it all. This is, truly, us. PS No spoilers; we're only one season in so far!

Friday, March 08, 2024

Away, Again

 


Asher's first experience with sleepaway camp was, admittedly, a bit of an experiment. He was 7, much younger than Aaron and Jada were when we first sent them off. And, we didn't know it at the time, but this was before ADHD meds. We were not surprised when he struggled behaviorally, and was not able to complete two of the four one-week sessions. He had a blast, but he was so young, and this was so new, so we were glad to have given it a try and hoped ensuing years would be easier.

Last year we also did four weeks, but in two separate places, and he did really well. It helped that at the one camp he had the same counselor as the previous year, who may very well be not a young man but an angel in disguise, given how patient and dedicated he was with Asher. Between a great counselor, another year of experience, and proper medication, Asher did much better.

This year we'll try three different locations over five weeks. By this stage, Jada and Aaron grew to adore these camps and were pretty good at packing for them on their own (albeit being slightly older by Year 3). Asher doesn't seem to be as enthused, and keeping track of possessions is notoriously difficult for him. But we're praying for another sterling experience.

Friday, March 01, 2024

Raising a Reader

 


Happy to report Asher is making progress on the reading front. He still has a long way to go to catch up to his classmates, but he's getting more confident as he memorizes more short words and gains more mastery sounding out longer words.

Books have always been a part of our lives. To this day I still read to Asher every night. And bookstores are a favorite destination for us when I'm in a generous mood. Hopefully soon he'll be able to dive into his own reads on his own. I hope we are helping make a lifelong reader.

Friday, February 23, 2024

Nineteen!

 


Tomorrow our oldest turns 19. We are so sentimental as we proudly watch Jada become a young woman. Last year she officially became an adult, this year is her last as a teenager, and soon she will be graduating from college and entering into "the real world." She will always be our first baby. But we love the grown-up she is becoming. Happy birthday, Jerds!

Friday, February 16, 2024

Tired

 

 

Asher begged us for a scooter for Christmas, so I took him to Walmart to pick one out. It's been a good purchase all around. We do a lot of walking in our neighborhood, and it's a lot funner for him to use two wheels and a lot easier for us to not hear him whining about his legs being sore. It's pretty hilly where we live, but he's been pretty good learning how to navigate the downhills and power up the uphills. Glad his first wheels have been a good experience so far.

Friday, February 09, 2024

Age Limits

 


At the risk of contradicting last week's post, I do want to claim my own grace in not holding myself to an impossible standard as a parent based on my personal situation. It is a form of self-care that I am trying to lean into, to accept that I can't do everything and that that is ok.

This came to the fore last month when a big snowfall afforded an opportunity for sledding at our local park. Asher and I hit the slopes, along with what appeared like our entire neighborhood. What a magical scene it is when everyone gathers for this increasingly rare treat. The sights and sounds are worth remembering forever.

Anyway, as I was frantically trying to keep up with Asher, say hi to folks we'd bump into, and capture the moment through photos and videos, something occurred to me. Kids of all ages could be found in various states of fun: toddlers processing this new phenomenon called snow, older kids Asher's age that were ready to daredevil their way down the hill, and teens reveling in a day off from school. I realized that I was probably the oldest person out there that was responsible for a kid, and a high-energy high-maintenance one at that.

Sure, there were older people out there, but they were going for a stroll by themselves or were part of a multi-generational group providing support for their kids who were with their kids. Kids Asher's age or younger came with parents far younger than me. And teens were there without their parents. Here I was doing way more than folks older than me, while trying to keep up with folks way younger than me. 

Asher may have lots of advantages since I'm his dad. But one advantage he won't access is things like me being willing to careen down the hill with him. And in that moment, I was able to get over any guilt about that and accept that there were limits to what I could do and that that was ok.

This specific moment is part of a broader realization I am trying to live more securely in. All of my closest friends are around my age, but none of kids as young as Asher (or, to my knowledge, with special needs as acute as Asher's). This is also true for my peer set in the professional space, where I hang with civic leaders most of whom who don't have nearly the level of parental responsibilities I carry. As for parents of Asher's friends, they're all younger than me and most have jobs that afford more flexibility than mine. 

So, in just about any circle I'm in, there's no way for me to keep up. And I can seethe or wallow on that, kill myself to try desperately to level up, or accept my limitations and be glad for what I can do. I can't say the latter option comes naturally to me - the roots of that are the subject of another dive in another space - but I can say that I am increasingly aware it is my best option and increasingly able to choose that option with joy. Maybe as I get older I am, albeit not in a straight line, getting a little wiser too.

Friday, February 02, 2024

Degree of Difficulty

 


"Degree of difficulty" is a concept you see at the Olympics, where an athlete gets more points for attempting a routine that is harder, say in gymnastics or diving. This makes sense in some sports competitions: in such cases, we want to reward the best performance, so sticking a really difficult move is more impressive than really sticking a less difficult move.

But, it doesn't make sense in other sports competitions. If two teams play, and your team's star quarterback is injured, and you valiantly keep the game close but lose by a few points, you may have earned a moral victory but you are not rewarded an actual victory because you still lost the game.

Being a working parent is a constant realization that life is like the latter more than the former. Sure, you may receive sympathy, rightfully so, when you do your best in the midst of hardship. Gutting through the morning presentation at work after spending all night cleaning up your child's vomit is commendable. Making space to help your child through a rough spot after a punishing day at work is something worth patting yourself on the back for.

Nevertheless, life does not often grade on a curve, or to stick with my original metaphor give you a boost for a high degree of difficulty. While there is more awareness and therefore more sympathy in the work world of work-life balance, at least in my line of business my clients expect my "A" game when they've hired me, and it is of no relevance if my nerves are frayed from a bumpy morning with the kids. 

And, it is helpful for kids to know that while they are the most important thing in the lives of us parents, they are not the only thing in our lives. So there will be times, understandably, when the work-life balance equation doesn't work in their favor, in that you can't make their game because you have to work late. We need not beat ourselves up for not measuring up to some unrealistic standard in which we are independently wealth and have infinite energy to always be there for our kids. But we do need to acknowledge that when we get slammed in one part of our lives (e.g. a business trip, an unexpected work deadline), it can have negative consequences in another part of our lives (e.g. being absent or otherwise not having 100 percent to give when our kids might need it).

This all may sound harsh but sometimes life is harsh. All the more to be nice to ourselves and others, to acknowledge that life sometimes does not give you a bonus for degree of difficulty so you just have to do your best and be ok with your best not measuring up.